CHAPTER ELEVEN

Miles’ Great Campaigning

I. Miles and His Foot Cavalry Defeat Sitting Bull

Now let us turn to Miles and his men.

General Miles was ordered to march his command up the Yellowstone to the mouth of the Tongue River, and establish a temporary post or cantonment there for the winter. He was an officer in whom great confidence was reposed, and from whom much was to be expected. He had as brilliant a record in the Civil War as Custer, and had practically fought one decisive battle in the closing campaign on his own responsibility, with splendidly successful results. He was a natural-born soldier, and he never showed his talents to better advantage than in the operations which followed. His career before and after this period is still fresh in the minds of a grateful people.

While Crook and his men were hammering away in one portion of the field, Miles was doing splendid service in the other. The original intention had been to place under his command some fifteen hundred men, but the force he really received amounted only to about five hundred. With these he was not expected to do more than maintain his position, and acquire such information as he could in preparing for the spring and summer campaign of the following year. That was not, from his point of view, a satisfactory program.

Veteran Indian fighters in the Northwest informed him that it would be useless to try to reach the Indians in the winter; but Miles was not that kind of a soldier. If the Indians could live in tepees in that season, he saw no reason why white soldiers should not move against them in spite of the weather. He had one of the finest regiments of infantry in the service—the Fifth. Based upon the report of courts-martial, discipline, etc., no regiment surpassed or even equaled its record. Miles himself proved to be the most successful commander against Indians that the war produced, and his success was not due to what envious people called good luck. It was well merited and thoroughly earned.

The government, upon the representations of Sheridan and Sherman, which were based upon Miles’ previous successful fighting with the Southwestern Indians, allowed the young colonel everything he asked for. If his troops were not completely equipped for the work in which their commander designed to employ them, it would be his fault. With wise forethought, he provided the soldiers as if for an arctic expedition. They cut up blankets for underwear. They were furnished with fur boots and the heaviest kind of leggings and overshoes. Every man had a buffalo overcoat and a woolen or fur mask to go over his face under his fur cap. Their hands were protected by fur gloves. It was well for them that they were thus provided, for the winter of 1876–7 was one of the most severe that had ever visited that section of the country. The mercury frequently froze in the thermometer, and on one occasion a temperature of sixty degrees below zero was recorded by the spirit thermometer.

Busying themselves during the late fall, which was, in effect, winter, in the erection of the cantonment on the Tongue and Yellowstone, the first important touch they got with the Indians was on the 18th of October, when Lieutenant-Colonel Elwell S. Otis, commanding a battalion of four companies of the Twenty-third Infantry, escorting a wagon-load of supplies from Glendive, Montana, to the cantonment, was attacked by a large force of hostiles. The attack was not delivered with any great degree of force at first, but it grew in power until the troops had to corral the train. The soldiers had a hard fight to keep the animals from being stampeded and the train captured. Having beaten off the Indians, the train advanced, fighting, until Clear Creek was reached. During a temporary cessation of the attacks a messenger rode out from the Indian lines, waving a paper, which he left upon a hill in line with the advance of the train. When it was picked up, Colonel Otis found it to be an imperious message—probably written by some half-breed—from the chief whom he had been fighting. It ran as follows:

“Yellowstone.

“I want to know what you are doing traveling on this road. You scare all the buffalo away. I want to hunt in this place. I want you to turn back from here. If you don’t, I’ll fight you again. I want you to leave what you have got here, and turn back from here.

I am your friend, SITTING BULL.

“I mean all the rations you have got and some powder. Wish you would write me as soon as you can.”

I consider this document unique in the history of Indian warfare, and it well illustrates not only the spirit, but the naïveté of the great chief. Otis despatched a scout to Sitting Bull with the information that he intended to take the train through to the cantonment in spite of all the Indians on earth, and if Sitting Bull wanted to have a fight, he (Otis) would be glad to accommodate him at any time and on any terms. The train thereupon moved out, and the Indians promptly recommenced the fight. But the engagement was soon terminated by a flag of truce. A messenger appeared, who stated that the Indians were tired and hungry and wanted to treat for peace. Otis asked Sitting Bull to come into his lines, but that wily old chief refused, although he sent three chiefs to represent him.

Otis had no authority to treat for peace or anything else, but he gave the Indians a small quantity of hardtack and a couple of sides of bacon, and advised them to go to the Tongue River and communicate with General Miles. The train then moved on, and after following a short distance, with threatening movements, the Indians withdrew.

On the same night Otis fell in with Miles and his whole force. Miles, being alarmed for Otis’ safety, had marched out to meet him. The train was sent down to the cantonment, and the troops, numbering three hundred and ninety-eight, with one gun, started out in pursuit of Sitting Bull. They overtook him on the 21st of October at Cedar Creek. With Sitting Bull were Gall and other celebrated chiefs, and one thousand warriors of the Miniconjous, San Arcs, Brulés, and Unkpapas, together with their wives and children, in all over three thousand Indians. Crazy Horse, with the Oglalas and Two Moon’s band of the Northern Cheyennes, were not with Sitting Bull, while Dull Knife’s band, as we have seen, had gone to Wyoming for the winter.

The reason for this separation is obvious. They could better support the hardships of the winter, more easily find shelter, and with less difficulty escape from the pursuing soldiers, if they were broken up in smaller parties.

Sitting Bull asked Miles for an interview, which was arranged. He was attended by a subchief and six warriors, Miles by an aide and six troopers. The meeting took place between the lines, all parties being on horseback.

Sitting Bull wanted peace on the old basis. The Indians demanded permission to retain their arms, with liberty to hunt and roam at will over the plains and through the mountains, with no responsibility to any one, while the government required them to surrender their arms and come into the agencies. The demands were irreconcilable therefore. The interview was an interesting one, and although it began calmly enough, it grew exciting toward the end.

Sitting Bull, whom Miles describes as a fine, powerful, intelligent, determined looking man, was evidently full of bitter and persistent animosity toward the white race. He said no Indian that ever lived loved the white man, and that no white man that ever lived loved the Indian; that God Almighty had made him an Indian, but He didn’t make him an Agency Indian, and he didn’t intend to be one.

The manner of the famous chief had been cold, but dignified and courteous. As the conversation progressed, he became angry—so enraged, in fact, that in Miles’ words “he finally gave an exhibition of wild frenzy. His whole manner seemed more like that of a wild beast than a human being. His face assumed a furious expression. His jaws were tightly closed, his lips were compressed, and you could see his eyes glisten with the fire of savage hatred.”[103]

One cannot help admiring the picture presented by the splendid, if ferocious, savage. I have no doubt that General Miles himself admired him.

At the height of the conference a young warrior stole out from the Indian lines and slipped a carbine under Sitting Bull’s blanket. He was followed by several other Indians to the number of a dozen, who joined the band, evidently meditating treachery. Miles, who, with his aide, was armed with revolver only, promptly required these new auxiliaries to retire, else the conference would be terminated immediately. His demand was reluctantly obeyed. After some further talk, a second meeting was appointed for the morrow, and the conference broke up.

During the night Miles moved his command in position to be able to intercept the movement of the Indians the next day. There was another interview with the picturesque and imperious savage, whose conditions of peace were found to be absolutely impossible, since they involved the abandonment of all the military posts, the withdrawal of all settlers, garrisons, etc., from the country. He wanted everything and would give nothing. He spoke like a conqueror, and he looked like one, although his subsequent actions were not in keeping with the part. Miles, seeing the futility of further discussion, peremptorily broke up the conference. He told Sitting Bull that he would take no advantage of the flag of truce, but that he would give him just fifteen minutes to get back to his people to prepare for fighting. Shouting defiance, the chiefs rode back to the Indian lines.

There was “mounting in hot haste” surely, and hurried preparations were made for immediate battle on both sides. Watch in hand, Miles checked off the minutes, and exactly at the time appointed he ordered an advance. The Indians set fire to the dry grass, which was not yet covered with snow, and the battle was joined amid clouds of flame and smoke. Although outnumbered nearly three to one, the attack of the soldiers was pressed home so relentlessly that the Indians were driven back from their camp, which fell into the possession of Miles.

The Sioux were not beaten, however, for the discomfited warriors rallied a force to protect their flying women and children, under the leadership of Gall and others, Sitting Bull not being as much of a fighter as a talker. They were led to the attack again and again by their intrepid chiefs. On one occasion, so impetuous was their gallantry that the troops were forced to form square to repel their wild charges. Before the battle was over—and it continued into the next day—the Indians had been driven headlong for over forty miles.

They had suffered a serious loss in warriors, but a greater in the destruction of their camp equipage, winter supplies, and other property. Two thousand of them came in on the third day and surrendered, under promises of good treatment. Several hundred broke into small parties and scattered. Miles’ little force was too small to be divided to form a guard for the Indians who had been captured; and besides, he had other things to do, so he detained a number of the principal chiefs as hostages, and exacted promises from the rest that they would surrender at the Spotted Tail or Red Cloud Agency—a promise which, by the way, the great majority of them kept. Sitting Bull, Gall, and about four hundred others refused to surrender, and made for the boundary line, escaping pursuit for the time being.

This was the first and most serious defection from the Indian Confederacy. It was followed by others. In a subsequent campaign, in the depth of winter, a battalion under Lieutenant Baldwin struck Sitting Bull’s depleted and starving camp on two separate occasions, inflicting further loss upon that implacable chieftain.[104]

II. Miles’ Crushing Defeat of Crazy Horse at Wolf Mountain

Late in December Miles, having practically eliminated Sitting Bull from the game, moved out against Crazy Horse. He had with him five companies of the Fifth Infantry and two of the Twenty-second, in all four hundred and thirty-six officers and men and two Napoleon guns. These guns were fitted with canvas wagon-tops, and were so disguised as exactly to resemble the supply wagons of the train. The men left the cantonment on the 29th of December, 1876. It had been learned that Crazy Horse was in the valley of the Tongue River, south of the Yellowstone. There were sharp skirmishes on the first and third of January between the advance and war parties of Indians, who were moving gradually up the Tongue toward the mountains. On the evening of the 7th of January, 1877, a young warrior and a woman were captured, belonging to those Cheyennes who were still with Crazy Horse and the Unkpapas, and were related to some of the principal members of the band. From them much was learned of the situation of the Indian position.

GEN. JOHN GIBBON GEN. NELSON A. MILES GEN. WESLEY MERRITT GEN. ALFRED H. TERRY

SOME FAMOUS INDIAN FIGHTERS

The next morning, the weather being bitterly cold, the men moved out to attack the Indian camp. Crazy Horse’s warriors numbered between eight and nine hundred. He had posted his men on the cliffs surmounting a valley in the Wolf Mountains, a spur of the Big Horn Range, not far from Crook’s battle-ground on the Rosebud. The troops entered the valley in full view of the Indians occupying the heights. The position was well chosen; for in order to make the attack, the soldiers would have to climb straight up the walls to get at the Indians, who were enabled, by the configuration of the ground and by their numbers, almost to surround the soldiers. One reason why Crazy Horse was willing to fight was because of his great desire to get possession of the Indians recently captured.

Seeing that Crazy Horse was willing to accept battle, Miles made his preparations deliberately. The troops, out of range of the Indians, calmly had breakfast and made their camp secure. Having done everything at his leisure, Miles moved out to the attack.

The Sioux were plainly visible on the cliffs. They could be seen shaking their fists and brandishing their rifles as the soldiers slowly advanced through the deep snow which covered the ground. The Indians seemed absolutely confident that Miles was marching into a trap, that when he got into the cañon he would be unable to scale the slopes, and they would have him at their mercy. There was no ambush about it. The whole thing was open and plain. They had chosen their position and had invited the soldiers to make at them. There was, indeed, no other way for Miles to get to them, so cunningly had they taken advantage of the ground, except the way which lay open before them. As the troops drew nearer, the gestures of defiance and contempt were accompanied by yells and jeers. Among the things they shouted in their confident assurance of success were these significant words:

“You have had your last breakfast!”

Indeed, the grim prophecy did not seem unlikely of fulfilment.

It might have been supposed that men, encumbered as were the soldiers with their heavy, winter clothing, could never have scaled those heights, especially in the face of such opposition as the redoubtable warriors of Crazy Horse would offer. If they did not succeed in clearing the cliffs of the Indians, they would probably be shot down in scores in the valley. They would then be forced to retreat to their train, if any of them were left alive to do so, and stand a siege; and as they were three or four hundred miles from any possible relieving force, and in the depth of a Dakota winter, that would mean a speedy annihilation. It was a serious risk to take, but no battle was ever won without taking risks, and the nice art of the soldier consists in knowing what risks to take and when to take them. Not the least of Miles’ claims to admiration as a commander was his determination, under all circumstances, to fight then and there.

Undaunted by the threatening prospect and unmoved by the savage shouts and jeers, although some of the scouts who knew the Sioux language retorted in kind, the troops deployed, and at as rapid a pace as they could manage, started for the hills. The artillery was exposed and unlimbered, and the shells thrown into the Indian position caused great surprise and consternation. The key to the position was a high elevation upon the left. The Indians who held it were led by Big Crow, the chief medicine man. As the battle began he exposed himself freely between the lines, dressed in a magnificent Indian war shirt and bonnet, running up and down and yelling like a fiend.

Miles massed a little column against Big Crow and the warriors defending the eminence. At the same time he ordered a general escalade of the cliff along the whole line. Under a heavy fire, which, however, like most plunging fires down the sides of mountains or slopes, did but little damage, the troops slowly toiled up the icy, snow-covered bluffs.[105] Led by Major Casey and Captains McDonald and Baldwin, the charge was delivered with the utmost resolution. It was not a dash. No men, encumbered as were those soldiers, could move rapidly up icy cliffs, covered, wherever the sharpness of the acclivity permitted, with from one to three feet of snow. It was rather a slow, dogged, determined crawl, with a stop every few moments to fire at some Indian silhouetted above them on the gray sky-line of that winter morning.

The fighting for the high cliff on the left of the line was spirited and desperate. Finally, the men came to a hand-to-hand struggle. The Indians clung tenaciously to the post until Big Crow was shot, when the soldiers succeeded in dislodging them. This bluff commanded the lines. It was occupied by the troops, who poured an enfilading fire upon the army of Crazy Horse. The Indian position, therefore, became untenable, and fighting sullenly and stubbornly, they withdrew in good order, though closely pursued by the troops. In the latter part of the advance snow began to fall, and before the battle was closed the combatants were fighting in the midst of a blinding storm. Miles says that the moment at which the Indians turned their backs and began the retreat was one in which he felt relief scarcely to be expressed, so desperate had been the fighting, so difficult the ascent, and so doubtful the result.

The Indians were pursued for some distance, and a large portion of their camp equipage, with supplies, was captured. On the whole, they had suffered a most disheartening and disorganizing defeat. Their ammunition was about gone, their confederates in other tribes had been captured, the main body of the redoubtable Cheyennes had been crushed and were starving, the Unkpapas, the Miniconjous, the Sans Arcs, and the Brulés had surrendered. The game was up. There was nothing for Crazy Horse and the exhausted remnant which remained faithful to him to do but to surrender, which they accordingly did in the early spring.

III. The Capture of Lame Deer’s Village

There remained, then, in the field practically but one band of sixty lodges,[106] under Lame Deer and Iron Star, who refused positively to surrender. The indefatigable and brilliantly successful Miles pursued this band, overtook it, surprised it one morning in May, captured the village, dispersed the greater portion of the Indians, and succeeded in isolating and surrounding Lame Deer and Iron Star, with half a dozen principal warriors. Miles was very desirous of taking them alive. He advanced with some of his officers toward the desperate little body of Indians who had been cut off from the fleeing mass of savages, making peace signs and crying peace words.

The Indians were tremendously excited and remained on guard, but committed no act of hostility. Miles rode up, and leaning over the saddle, extended his hand to Lame Deer. The intrepid chieftain, who was quivering with emotion under his Indian stoicism, grasped the general’s hand and clung to it tightly. Iron Star took Baldwin’s hand. The other Indians came forward, reluctantly, with hands extended, and all was going well.

At this juncture one of the white scouts, not knowing what was going on, dashed up to the group, and possibly under a misapprehension that the life of the commanding officer was threatened, covered Lame Deer with his rifle. The Indian, probably thinking that he was to be killed in any event, resolved to die fighting. Miles strove to hold him and to reassure him, but by a powerful wrench he freed himself, lifting his rifle as he did so, and pointing it straight at the general.

Miles had been in many battles, but he was never nearer death than at that moment. His quickness and resource did not desert him. Just as the Indian’s finger pressed the trigger he dug his spurs into his horse and swung the animal aside in a powerful swerve. Lame Deer’s bullet, which missed him by a hair’s breadth, struck one of the escort and instantly killed him. Iron Star also drew away from Baldwin and raised his rifle, as the other Indian had done. None of them were so quick, however, as Lame Deer had been. The soldiers closing in had seen Lame Deer’s motion, and before any further damage was done by the Indians they were overwhelmed by a rapid fire, which stretched them all dead upon the ground. The fighting had been short, but exceedingly sharp. The troops lost four killed and seven wounded, the Sioux fourteen killed and a large number wounded. The band was completely broken up, and most of the Indians surrendered soon after.[107]

Of all the Indians who had borne prominent parts in this greatest of our Indian wars with the savage tribes, there remained at large only the indomitable Sitting Bull, and he had escaped capture because, with a wretched band of starving but resolute followers, he succeeded in crossing the British Columbia boundary line.

Crook’s persistence, Mills’ bold stroke, Mackenzie’s desperate dash up Willow Creek Cañon, Miles’ splendid campaigning, his hard fighting at Cedar Creek and Wolf Mountain, his pursuit of Lame Deer, his policy and skill in dealing with the critical situations which had arisen, at last brought peace to the blood-drenched land. The most important work ever done by the United States Army outside of the greater wars of the nation had been successfully and brilliantly accomplished.

IV. Farewell to a Great Chief and His Hopes

A note of the fate of the two chief antagonists of the United States may fittingly close this chapter. Sitting Bull returned to the United States, and surrendered to the army a few years later. Ever a malcontent, he was one of the moving spirits in the Ghost Dance uprising, which culminated in the battle of Wounded Knee in 1890, and he was killed by the Indian police while resisting arrest.[108]

The end of Crazy Horse came sooner, in a mêlée in a guard-house on the 7th of September, 1877. He was stabbed in the abdomen, and died from the effects of the wound. He was dissatisfied always, in spite of his surrender, and had been conspiring to take the war-path again. Believing that his intentions had become known and that he would be rigorously dealt with on account of the discovery, he started to run amuck, with a knife of which he had become possessed by some means, in the guard-house. When the fracas was over, he was found on the ground, with a desperate wound in the abdomen. Whether the wound was given by the bayonet of the sentry at the door, whether the blow was delivered by some of the Indians who threw themselves upon him, and with whom he struggled, is a matter which cannot be determined. However it was come by, it was enough, for from the effects he died in a short time.

So that was the melancholy end of Crazy Horse, the protagonist of these tales, and one of the most famous Indians that ever lived. Captain Bourke[109] thus describes him:

“I saw before me a man who looked quite young, not over thirty years old, five feet eight inches high, lithe and sinewy, with a scar in the face. The expression of his countenance was one of quiet dignity, but morose, dogged, tenacious, and melancholy. He behaved with stolidity, like a man who realized that he had to give in to Fate, but would do so as sullenly as possible.... All Indians gave him a high reputation for courage and generosity. In advancing upon an enemy, none of his warriors were allowed to pass him. He had made himself hundreds of friends by his charity toward the poor, as it was a point of honor with him never to keep anything for himself, excepting weapons of war. I never heard an Indian mention his name save in terms of respect. In the Custer Massacre, the attack by Reno had first caused a panic among the women and children and some of the warriors, who started to flee; but Crazy Horse, throwing away his rifle, brained one of the incoming soldiers with his stone war-club, and jumped upon his horse.”

Crazy Horse was a born soldier, whose talents for warfare and leadership were of the highest order. He had repulsed Reynolds on the Powder River, wresting a victory from apparent defeat. He had thrown himself in succession upon the columns of Crook on the Rosebud and of Custer on the Little Big Horn; and it must be admitted that he had not only checked, but had driven back, Crook by a crushing attack upon him, while he had annihilated half of Custer’s command. He had fought a desperate, and, from a military point of view, highly creditable, action with Crook’s vastly superior forces at Slim Buttes. The only man who had fairly and squarely defeated him was Miles at Wolf Mountain, and even there Crazy Horse managed to keep his force well in hand as he withdrew from the field.

He would probably never have surrendered, had it not been for the defections around him, and for the disastrous defeat of the Cheyennes by Mackenzie, and the destruction of so much of his camp equipage at Wolf Mountain. As it was, he might have continued the fighting, had not his warriors been freezing and starving, and almost entirely out of ammunition. There was nothing left for the Indians but surrender. As one of them said to Miles:

“We are poor compared with you and your force. We cannot make a rifle, a round of ammunition, or a knife. In fact, we are at the mercy of those who are taking possession of our country. Your terms are harsh and cruel, but we are going to accept them, and place ourselves at your mercy.”

That summed up the situation, although the terms granted the Indians were very far from being harsh or cruel.

So passed out of history the great war chief of the Sioux, one of the bravest of the brave, and one of the most capable and sagacious of captains in spite of his absurd name. He had many of the vices, perhaps all the vices, of his race; but he had all their rude virtues, too, and great abilities, which most of them lacked. Sitting Bull, wise, crafty, indomitable as he was, was not to be compared with him for a moment.

It was a tragedy any way you look at it. You cannot but feel much admiration for those Sioux and Cheyennes—cruel, ruthless though they were. I bid good-by to them with a certain regret.

Some one has said, as the Rosebud and the Little Big Horn marked the high-water of Indian supremacy in the Northwest, so the forgotten grave of Crazy Horse marks an ebb from which no tide has ever risen.

As he passes to the happy hunting-ground in the land of the Great Spirit, I stand and salute him with a feeling of respect which I have gathered not only from a study of his career, but from the statements and writings of men who could best judge of his qualities—for they were the soldiers who fought him.

NOTES ON THE LAME DEER FIGHT

By Colonel D. L. Brainard, U. S. A.[110]

The command, consisting of four troops of the Second Cavalry, “F,” “G,” “H,” and “L,” two companies of the Fifth Infantry, two of the Twenty-second Infantry, and a company of mounted scouts, all under command of Colonel Nelson A. Miles, left the cantonment on Tongue River May 1, 1877, and marched up Tongue River, with a view of intercepting a band of hostile Indians, under Lame Deer, known to be at or near the head-waters of the Rosebud River. The transportation consisted of bull teams, mule teams, and a few pack animals. The command marched up Tongue River four days, when the train was left in charge of a small guard, the main command pushing on with pack trains, the cavalry leading and the infantry following more slowly, striking across country toward the Rosebud River, marching day and night, stopping only long enough to make coffee for the men, and to rest and graze the animals.

We bivouacked on the evening of the 6th in a deep valley near Little Muddy Creek, and about two o’clock the following morning were again in the saddle, moving silently and swiftly down the valley toward the Indian camp, which had been located the previous evening by White Bull, Brave Wolf, Bob Jackson, and the other scouts. The scouts had reported that the camp was only about six miles distant, but it was soon discovered that it was much farther than this, and at early dawn we were still some distance away. The command had been moving at a trot, but the gallop was immediately taken up, and just as the sun appeared above the horizon, we rounded a bend in the valley and came in sight of the Indian camp, which was located on the right side, close to the hills.

At first we saw no Indians except a few boys guarding the ponies, which were grazing a little distance beyond the camp, but they came out immediately, and dropping in the grass, began to fire in our direction, though without effect. As we charged down on the camp, these Indians, together with squaws and children, ran for the hills, driving with them the few horses that were near the tepees. “H” Company, under command of Lieutenant Lovell H. Jerome, charged through the camp and beyond, capturing the pony herd. The other companies, all under command of Captain Ball, charged to the village, formed line to the right, deployed as skirmishers, and pursued the Indians up the hill.

The hills were so steep at this point that it was necessary to dismount the command and advance on foot, the horses being sent around by an easier route to join us later near the summit of the hill. The line as formed was “F” troop (Tyler) on the right, “L” troop (Norwood) center, and “G” troop (Wheelan) on the left. The Indians were driven up over the hills, where they scattered like quail. Our horses were brought up, and mounting, we charged across the country for two or three miles, and later returned to the village.

As my recollections serve me, four soldiers and fourteen Indians were killed, ten soldiers being wounded, myself being one of the number. About four hundred ponies were captured, which were afterward used for mounting a battalion of Infantry, which later performed much effective work in the field. There were over sixty tepees, in which we found tons of dried buffalo meat, a few arms, some ammunition, and a great many buffalo robes, saddles, and an assortment of camp property, all of which were burned that afternoon, thus so effectually crippling the band that the remnant came in and surrendered a few weeks later.

We camped on the battle-ground that night, the following day moving back in the direction of our wagon train.

One of the most interesting incidents of the fight occurred just as the troop to which I belonged (“L”) charged on the village. I saw General Miles riding toward the first tepee, near which were two Indians, followed by his orderly. He called out something to these Indians which I did not understand, but I later understood he had called on them to surrender. One of these was evidently the Chief, Lame Deer, for he wore a long head-dress of eagle feathers, the head-dress reaching to the ground. As Miles approached on horseback, the Chief walked rapidly toward him, with his hand extended, as though to shake hands, but when within ten or twelve feet of him, the Indian in the rear, who was said to be Iron Star, a son of Lame Deer, and also a medicine man of the tribe, called sharply to Lame Deer, presumably warning him of the approaching troops, and urging him to follow the other Indians to the hills.

Lame Deer stopped, turned, hesitated, then ran back a few steps, and picking up a loaded carbine from the ground, fired point blank at General Miles, who, seeing the movement, wheeled his horse sharply and bent forward. The bullet passed over him, striking his orderly in the breast, killing him instantly. The Chief then ran up the steep hill, accompanied by the other Indian. The head-dress made a very conspicuous mark, and many shots were immediately fired in that direction. From his tottering steps we saw that the Chief was badly wounded, and at this point his companion, instead of escaping as he could have done, placed his arm around the Chief’s waist, and supported him up the hill. About this time the Chief drew a revolver, and without turning about, held it in rear of him and fired in our direction, the bullets striking the ground only a few feet in his rear. This act, we assumed, was one of defiance of a man who knew he could not escape, but who was game to the last. Iron Star supported the Chief until the latter fell, when he escaped over the hill, only to be killed by “G” troop, which had been pushing up on that side. After the devotion and bravery he had displayed in supporting Lame Deer up the hill, we were almost sorry he had not escaped alive.

A few days later Bob Jackson told me that, on examining Lame Deer’s body after the fight, he had found that he had been hit seventeen times.

Another incident which illustrates the valor of the United States soldier was that of Private Leonard, Troop “L,” Second Cavalry, who had dropped behind to readjust his saddle, a couple of miles from the Indian camp. The command was moving rapidly, and the Indians slipped in between the rear of the column and this lone soldier. However, when he saw them he rode to the top of a hill, and lying down behind some rocks, held these Indians at bay for several hours until relief came to him. It was fortunate that relief came as it did, for he had nearly exhausted his ammunition in firing at these Indians, who had several times charged his position.

Footnote 103:

Personal Recollections of General Nelson A. Miles, U. S. A.

Footnote 104:

As an instance of Miles’ capacity in handling men, this is what Baldwin says in a private letter, afterward made public, of the orders he received: “When I was given command of this battalion opposite the mouth of Squaw Creek, and the General took command of a less number of men, it was a question as to which would find the hostile Indians, and with the only order or suggestion given by him in that earnest manner characteristic of him, he said, ‘Now, Baldwin, do the best you can. I am responsible for disaster, success will be to your credit; you know what my plans are, and what we are here for.’” There is a dashing, manly ring about such words which I rejoice to recognize. It is a great soldier who can first choose and then trust his subordinates.

Footnote 105:

At the battle of King’s Mountain, in the American Revolution, the small loss of life among the Americans was due to the fact that the English, trained marksmen though they were, firing down the slopes of the mountain, overshot their opponents, although they had them in full view all the way up the slope; and it is the tendency of troops always to do the same thing. Troops on a level usually fire too low, and the ground between the advancing lines of soldiers is often plowed up by bullets from the depressed muzzles, which should have gone into the breasts of the approaching enemy.

Footnote 106:

Each lodge accounted for from five to ten persons.

Footnote 107:

See close of this chapter for another account of the Lame Deer Fight.

Footnote 108:

These affairs are to be discussed at length in a forthcoming volume.

Footnote 109:

“On the Border With Crook,” Captain John G. Bourke, U. S. A.

Footnote 110:

Colonel Brainard won his commission by his heroic conduct in the Greely Arctic Expedition, 1881–4.—C. T. B.